High Roller
by twotonguesincheek
Summary: Kim knew her life wasn't much, but that didn't mean it couldn't be something. They called her crazy. Well, crazy's better than nothing. [senior year, Kim's pov]
1. Homecoming

I heart Kim Kelly so this is something I just wanted to write. I'd love to hear what anyone has to say about it.

Starts off with Kim coming back from road tripping with deadheads and then fun stuff ensues. Will feature lots of Kim and Lindsay friendship, the freak guys being lovable little shits, and maybe a few cameos from our geek boys. Biggest thing I'm wrestling with is whether or not to do Lindsay/Nick. yes no maybe so? ;D not sure..hmm.

(did you know that Kim's mom is named Cookie? lol that might be helpful to know. I used the actor's real name for her stepdad since he didn't have one. also I don't get the ages in f&g so all the freaks are seniors to make it easy, and Daniel's 19 going on 20 I guess)

* * *

After the van dropped her off, Kim found her Gremlin parked in the same spot she'd left it almost three months ago. It was in some friend-of-a-friend-_of-a-friend_'s backyard. Luckily, they were nowhere in sight so she could take her baby out straight away.

It was a shitty car with faded, chipped paint and more dents than she cared to count. Not done by her, of course. Well, not mostly. Hats off to Aunt Kathy for those.

Daniel once told her that Gremlins were the worst cars ever made. They rusted like crazy, guzzled gas, and something about the emissions or engine was bad or whatever. She couldn't remember. Cars were his thing; not hers.

But it was _her_ shitty car and she loved it more than the shrew she called her mother.

Kim shook her head and tossed a family-sized bottle of pop on the passenger seat.

It was the hardest thing she'd ever stolen, that 2-liter tub of orange Faygo. It was sheer luck when a pretty woman in a sundress came into the store and distracted the cashier for a moment. Sometimes things actually did work out for the best, Kim thought. They had to eventually, considering the odds.

She pulled out a bundle of mixed flowers from the back pocket of her denim shorts and threw them carelessly next to the pop. They were only slightly bruised.

The rich bastards living in the house she picked 'em from wouldn't miss the flowers lining their outside fence. But if they did, she couldn't give. Kim plucked Dahlias, lilacs, and forget-me-nots. Not that she knew any of their names.

And to think she went through all this effort just because she was trying to be nice. _Nice_. To her _mother_.

She must've lost some screws of hers back in Colorado.

With a quick glance, she considered herself in the rear-view mirror. Her face was shockingly bare to her own eyes without a lick of makeup. But the deadheads didn't wear makeup or carry mirrors, and Kim was too broke to buy either.

(Though she did manage to 'lift an eyeliner or mascara from a corner store now-and-then.)

She thought she looked haggard and somehow almost...innocent? More and less like a seventeen year old at the same time. Like a slut who didn't know it, she laughed.

Though bleary, her eyes were white as fresh snow. It was important to be sharp in case her homecoming went south.

She didn't expect it to go well but she rarely expected anything—it was the only way to keep from being disappointed. Though others always seemed to expect her to be disappoint_ing_. She didn't think about that much. It only pissed her off.

Kim had felt like a different person that summer. And, yeah, it wasn't like she was anything impressive.

(Not like Lindsay, who went back home after two weeks because she had a family worth going back to.)

But for a little more than two and a half months she was a different person, and different was better than whatever the hell she was when she left this crummy town.

Just fifteen minutes driving alone in her car without the chatter and laughter of her deadhead friends, and she was starting to realize nothing changed. Not really. She was still Kim Kelly from Chippewa, Michigan and she was still driving her beat up car to her screwed up family home. And tomorrow when the first day of school began, it'd be the same old crap with a shiny new name: Senior Year.

Biting her lip, Kim raised the volume dial and let the blaring music drown her darkening thoughts.

"Live in dreams, Sunday Girl..." she sang along, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. The guys hated this 'new wave crap' but she didn't mind a Blondie jam. They were her band, with the name and all, and Debbie Harry was rad.

She knew she was procrastinating her arrival when she was dangerously close to passing by Daniel's house. He lived in the rougher, poorest side of town like her but his neighborhood was nicer. Folks decorated for holidays around here and swept their front yards sometimes.

Kim resisted the urge to do an impromptu drive-by and slammed down on the accelerator instead. She broke nine laws on the way to her house but only knew of five of them.

The neighbor's dog across the way echoed a bark in the background. She pulled up as quietly as she could. Hopefully it was late enough and her parents were fast asleep.

Kim shut her car door, softly, and adjusted her eyes to the darkness. She smiled to herself when she saw the living room's window wide open in an attempt to cool the steamy house. It was as hot as midsummer despite being early September.

Gracelessly, she ducked through the space and her feet found the hard floor, and took cautious steps. She bumped into something out of ordinary in the room and caught her breath. When she looked down, it was her older brother's sprawled body on the ground.

"What's going..." He blinked owlishly. "Kim?"

"_Dammit_," she hissed, whispering. "What the hell are you doing on the floor, headcase?"

Chip stared at her blankly.

Sighing inwardly, she wrapped her arms underneath his limp torso and dragged him back onto the couch. It was times like these she was glad to have a bigger, more muscular frame instead of the petite one guys creamed their pants over.

She was straightening out his legs when she heard him say, "Missed you," a little too loudly.

Kim glanced through the plastic curtains, apprehensively. When she was satisfied that no one was coming, she gave a nod and cracked a smile at her brother.

"Sleep, Chip," she told him with a gentle pat on the arm.

He wouldn't remember that she was even home come morning.

Putting the pop bottle and flowers on the dinner table in the adjacent room was easy enough. _Not bad, not bad. Might actually make out alright._

Taking a few more light steps, Kim made it to the hall entrance when she tripped over an open gallon of paint lying haphazardly on the ground. The tin rang out loudly and the sound of gurgling seemed obscenely noisy for what it was.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck._

She was never good at being subtle.

The house lit in a sickly, yellowish glow. Hideous mustard-colored paint was smeared across the wooden floor and splattered on her lavender Nike sneakers. Kim felt as if she was about to be discovered at the scene of a murder she committed.

Her mother's snappish voice was like nails on a chalkboard against the quietness.

"Look who finally decided to come back," her mom announced, stalking towards her. She was dressed in pink night robes and her hair was up in curlers. "sneaking in like a lost tramp—"

"I'm going to my room," Kim said gruffly, pushing past.

Cookie caught the top of her shoulder and her sharp nails dug in painfully. "Oh no you're not. No, you are _not_, sister. You're gonna—"

She thrashed against her grip. "I have school tomorrow!"

The woman laughed, mockingly. "And when have you ever cared about school, huh? When have you ever cared about _anything_ other than whoring yourself around doin' God knows what?"

Her mother backed her into the main room and Kim bared her teeth, finding her ground. If her mom wanted to play the part of a cat, then she was going to fight back like a mutt and win.

"You know what I was doing. I told you in my letter—"

Cookie scoffed and pointed a finger at her daughter. "One letter, you wrote me. Sayin' you was traveling around in some stranger's filthy van—"

She clenched her jaw. "I was with my friends. We didn't do—"

"Nu uh. You was havin' sex with strangers for drugs all summer long like some junkie whore. Marlene from down the block told me what those hippies do, Kimberly." Her hands flew up dramatically and she was shouting now. "And everyone knows about it! My daughter! Oh no, that's it. That's it!"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Kim spat. "You are so full of shit!"

"You are done for, Kim Jean Kelly! You are mistaken if you think this is gonna blow over. I ain't kiddin'. You are done for, for good! First I'm sellin' that car—"

Kim growled. "No. You can't. It's—"

"What's this?" asked a deep voice, scratchy with sleep.

Her stepdad barreled out of her mom's room, only in boxers. He frowned at the paint disaster and rubbed the side of his unshaven jaw before locking eyes with her.

Kim swore under her breath and dashed for the front door.

"Grab her!"

The rickety door jammed when she tried to swing it open. Just her luck. A laugh mixed with disbelief and fear bubbled out of her throat.

Jack's hold from behind was suffocatingly tight across her ribs. He picked her up like a rag doll and shifted them around to face her mother.

"_No_," shrieked Kim, over-and-over again until her voice became hoarse. "You _can't_. It's mine. _Mine_."

Her mother's face was stern, unrelenting. "I _can_ and I _will_. You won't get away this time, sister. I was too nice before and look how you repaid me." She gestured rudely. "Say goodbye to your car 'n' say goodbye to your freedom, honey. And you're gonna pay for this mess you caused."

Kim was lashing out with everything she had, kicking and screaming like a total nutjob. But it was no use. She could hold her own in a fight, but her stepdad was nearly a foot taller and had eighty pounds on her.

She almost elbowed him hard in the chest, but he caught her arm in time and twisted it. Kim grunted in pain.

"Look at her, fightin' like that," Jack said to her mom. "You'd think she was a man. We're gonna hav' ta send her to juvie at this rate." He smiled cruelly when she turned to look at him.

"One of them centers?" Cookie piped up. She scrutinized her daughter, who was still fighting a losing battle. "Maybe."

"She's never gonna learn, she's never gonna change. An' look what she's become."

_This isn't working. Gotta find any other way._

"Oh yeah, dumbass?" She was winded, but continued. "I'd figure you'd know all about juvie, but you don't know much 'bout anything. _Surprise._ You guys don't have the cash to send me away."

"They're takin' the real bad ones for free nowadays," he replied easily. "Gotta get them before they turn into criminals."

Kim couldn't hold back her sharp laugh, which came out more like a gasp. "_You're_ calling _me_ a criminal? That's fucking rich. I have so much dirt on you, I could send you to prison myself."

"You don't know nothing." A wave of hesitation weakened his face and she saw her chance.

"You wanna bet?" She relaxed in his arms. "Because I don't think you can afford it."

His hold was firm, but loose enough. Lifting up both legs, she swung them back and battered his crotch until she hit her target—and then struck him again with all her might.

She escaped his arms as he went down in pain and cursed up a storm. Her mom was yelling something and trying to grab her, but Cookie slipped backwards on the wet floor and landed with a thud.

The huge, enraged man caught her wrist and crushed it. She kicked recklessly, managing to strike his armpit, and he released her.

Kim practically tore the door off the hinges and ran like hell.

It was all happening so fast, her hands were moving like they didn't belong to her. Opening the door, slamming and locking it, and finally inserting her key into the ignition like perfect clockwork.

Her entire arm was throbbing, but it was her wrist that was screaming in fresh pain. Still, her fingers reached for the stick and she pulled out wildly but with precision, like she was a goddamn stunt driver.

When she looked in the rear-view mirror she expected to see them chasing after her, shouting and swinging like usual, but saw only her dried eyed, flushed face.

A strange whoop of victory came out of her mouth as the familiar shack houses whipped past. Kim tried to let out a guttural scream, but it died in her throat. Instead, she bit her lip until she drew blood and licked away the metallic taste.

She really should have expected that.

* * *

The buzz of adrenaline only lasted briefly. A half an hour passed as she tried to collect herself. She needed somewhere to crash, fast.

Where could she go to? More importantly, who would even have her?

_Daniel_, her thoughts answered at once. God, she wanted to climb through the window into Daniel's room and let him make her forget this whole damn night.

Let him say something stupid that was just witty enough to make her laugh. Let him kiss her all over the way no other boy could imitate, so demanding and yet tender—like he actually cared. She could almost believe that he did when she was in that dirtbag's arms.

But they were on bad terms now.

She had enough of his apathy. Enough to leave him for the whole summer. (Though she thought of him more often than she'd admit.)

When they had their last fight, it felt like their final one. She could've listened more or he could've tried harder, but neither did and now their break up was a weird, sore memory she didn't want to relive.

That left Lindsay. Her best friend. No, her _only_ real friend.

Lindsay had gotten in so much trouble for missing the summit and last Kim heard things were still rocky. The Weirs could be so uptight, but at least they weren't batshit insane.

_No_, she couldn't barge in on them. They'd let her spend the night, she was sure of it. They were good people, Lindsay's family. But it would be the nail in the coffin to her relationship with the Weirs. They'd only see her as real trouble and then Lindsay might not be able to hang out with her anymore and then...and then she'd lose the one person she had. If anything, she had to save that friendship. So no Lindsay.

She didn't have anything to lose besides her best friend. Oh, and her shitty car that was quickly running out of gas.

_God, my life sucks._

Kim wanted to cry, but no tears came. She choked out a few dry sobs and settled down with cool determination. Pushing her messy hair away with her good hand, she locked her sight forward and focused only on getting to her destination.

Rogers Park was a large community park not too far away from her house, but far enough. In the daytime it was a place where families and little kids had picnics and stuff. For people like her, it was a good spot to smoke a joint. Or hideout for the night.

Kim braked with a jerk and parked under the cover of a weeping willow's wispy branches, but made sure she could easily book it if worse came to worst.

She never had to do anything like this before. It was all her stepdad's fault. _The scuzzy, psycho bastard! Who the hell does he think he is?!_

Before Jack entered their lives a year ago, little scuffles at home sparked into confrontations where her mom would call her a dumb whore, Kim would throw it back, and at most a slap was exchanged. And then a day later they were back to snide remarks and the normal arguments.

But now _that_ happened.

Her life was a joke. The most unfunny, consistent joke of all time. And she wasn't laughing.

Kim gave the dashboard a couple good kicks and then sat in her car seething, staring out into the distance for what seemed like forever.

She got away and that was what mattered. Her blood was pumping lava and she wanted to kill, but it must've been hours past midnight and the sudden fatigue hit her like a sucker punch. With her hands still gripping the wheel, she slipped into the blackness and slept a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_more to come..._


	2. Schooled

Hey, thanks for the review! I didn't expect anyone to read or comment on this so fast...or at all lol. I'm SO happy you did. The Freaks & Geeks fandom seriously needs to be bigger! Anyways. When I get in the writing mood I can't stop so without further waiting, here it is. :)

* * *

The cool thing about community parks was that they usually had public bathrooms. The less cool thing about them was they reeked like piss and stale smoke.

Kim squinted at her reflection in the smudged bathroom mirror, disgusted, and groaned. "_Oh nooo_."

The girl frowning back at her looked like she'd lost in a bar fight after a three-day bender, and was then tossed in the closest ditch. Sure felt like it. Maybe she could braid her dirty hair and make out all right, but her old clothes were sweat-soaked from the summer heat and her jaw was unusually broken out with red, angry zits. Thank God she had some breath spray in her car.

Her fists pounded the glass.

"Ugh, I can_not_ go to school today. No way."

* * *

The sun was hanging in the middle of the sky. It was probably around lunch time and that meant she skipped her first four classes. Ah, well. The teachers really missed out on her radiant presence, she laughed to herself. They'd have to deal.

Some people were just born restless, and Kim was one of them. So it was no surprise when she ended up in the school's parking lot. She grabbed some food from the cafeteria on-the-go (if you called that food) and set off to find Lindsay.

She had to tell her about her parents going berserk and how she escaped like she was some badass action chick, like Pam Grier or someone. Lindsay was gonna flip out.

The most obvious place to check was the smoker's patio. The guys would be there too, and no doubt give her a hard time about anything and everything. But she sucked it up and swung open the door. She was starting to miss those jerks anyways.

Ken was sitting on the bleachers, hunched over and looking bored. He was alone, which was rare. Only the usual nobodies were screwing around behind him, smoking and talking.

She walked up to him without hesitation.

"Hey," Kim greeted bluntly. "Where's Lindsay?"

"Well hello to you too." He spoke sarcastically, like always. "It's not like we haven't seen each other since school ended or anything." Ken seemed completely unsurprised by her abruptness. He shook his head and answered her anyway. "Beats me."

Ken's eyes flickered over the tall blonde's shoulder and she turned to look. There was a girl finishing a conversation with a school band member and Kim understood that he was waiting on his girlfriend, Amy or whatshername.

She crossed her arms against her chest. "Sorry, Ken," she played along, "Why don't you come over to my house later and we'll catch up and comb each other's hair?"

"Nah. I'd rather drink lead paint. And then, you know," he shrugged, "die."

Kim smirked. He gave her bedraggled appearance a once-over.

"Y'know," Ken said with a straight face, his voice laced with hidden amusement, "just because you hung around hippies all summer doesn't mean you should give up on the whole bathing thing."

Amy waved Ken over, ending both conversations.

"Shut up," she snarled. But he was already up and walking, trailing after his tuba girlfriend like some horny puppy. He returned her glare with a half-hearted nod goodbye, and left.

Kim watched him join Amy's side as they headed towards the real bleachers. When he turned his face, she saw him smiling. A real wide, goofy kind of smile. The kind she never saw when he was around her or his friends.

She frowned harshly. God, happy people made her sick. At least when she was miserable. Kim scoffed and pushed past a group of kids laughing a little too carefree for her liking.

* * *

If Lindsay's future career of being a famous math whizz or human rights lawyer or Nobel Peace winner didn't work out, Kim had a pretty good suggestion: government freakin' spy. Her friend was just about near impossible to find.

_Make that im-fucking-possible. And, man, why does every girl in this dump have shoulder length brown hair?_

She checked all the spots Lindsay might be: the lunch room, the bleachers, all the main grounds of the school.

She needed to talk to someone and spill. Kim started out looking for Lindsay, but she would take anyone at the moment. Nick or Ken or one of her scummier friends. She'd even take Daniel, especially him. Screw the break up, they were still friends...right?

Her feet were aching, matching along with the rest of her body. She had reddish and purplish bruises across her stomach and legs. The ones on her arm made her want to barf when she looked at them, so she threw on a blue flannel shirt even though it was way too hot for it. If she looked weird, no one dared mention it. Her reputation as a scary bitch paid off today.

Kim was roaming the grassy quad when she saw long, shiny brown hair blowing in the wind right in front of her.

_There you are._

Without thinking, she grabbed their shoulder and spun them around.

It wasn't Lindsay, obviously. Too tall and too male. A lanky boy stared back at her, unshaken. He had plain sort of looks and glasses. Come to think of it, he kinda looked like a nerdy John Lennon.

She just laughed in his face.

"...why are you laughing?" he asked calmly but with caution.

"Because I thought you were my friend, geek. Nice hair. Let me borrow your conditioner sometime."

The boy met her head on, face-to-face. "Who's your friend?"

"Lindsay," she said, a little taken aback by his boldness.

He turned contemplative. "Lindsay Weir?"

"Yeah?" She fired, lifting her chin. "What, you know her or something?"

"She's Sam's sister."

When he said the kid's name, he looked to the left across the yard. Three teenage boys were walking closely together, heading back into the building.

_Well whaddya know._ Sam Weir had gone through a big growth spurt and he didn't look so much like an overgrown toddler anymore. He wasn't a babe or anything, not like Daniel, but he wasn't half bad. For a geek.

Kim raised an eyebrow and turned back to him. "Yeah, well, have you seen her?"

"No," he replied, matter-of-fact. "I can't say I have."

"_Great_," she sneered to no one in particular. "Can this day suck anymore? God." She began to stomp off, but his strangely tranquil voice stopped her.

"Are you ok?"

It was the worst thing he could have said to her. She couldn't believe this stranger—who was a glasses-wearing _geek_—was the only person in the whole world who bothered to give a damn about her and her pitiful life.

Kim raged on him. "Look, loser—"

"Harris."

"Excuse me?"

"My name," he clarified. "It's Harris."

"Ha. Alright, _Harris_." She moved uncomfortable close to him, but he didn't seem afraid. "I don't need pity from you and I sure as hell don't need your help."

"No, not necessarily," he said evenly. "But you do seem to be searching for help."

Kim's eyes blazed. "What was that? What do you know? God, you are so _frustrating_!" Her fingers gripped into fists against her sides. Shocks of pain traveled through her right wrist. "_That's it_. I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You're not frustrated because of me. You're frustrated because of someone else—or something else."

He took a step back to make some space, but she closed it again.

"So what if I am?"

"It's nothing to me, but don't you think you should go set whatever's upsetting you straight? You'd feel a lot better." Kim stared at him. "And I don't particularly care for getting beat up," he added drolly.

"Some things can't be set straight, genius."

"Then just fix the things that can be," Harris said sagely. "And forget the rest."

"I..." She swallowed.

A few months with deadheads and all their 'love the world, love your neighbor, let's all be happy rainbows and get along' BS had gone and made her soft. This geek should've been begging for mercy by now.

Oh, yeah. Deadheads...Wait, could they help? She needed somewhere to stay still. Maybe Laurie or Frank knew a place, she thought. It was worth a shot.

Kim went deadly silent and then huffed. "You know, geek, I've decided not to kick your ass. Today."

"Must be my lucky day. Perhaps I'll find ten dollars at the bus stop later," he said with understated sarcasm. "And it's Harris."

She looked over her shoulder as she walked away. "Harris," she agreed, almost kindly. The kid had dignity; she had to give him that.

* * *

"So, like, that's what happened."

"Wow, that's terrible," Laurie croaked out in her glassy voice. She reached out to touch Kim's hand. Frank nodded in agreement but seemed to be deep in thought.

Kim told them everything that happened, even down to the more uncomfortable details. Like Jack's totally hilarious orange and red stripes boxers with little rocket ships on them. She was never abashed in her entire life.

"Where are you going to live?" Frank asked calmly.

"Well it's not like I can spend another night sleeping in my car. My back is freakin' killing me," she complained, stealing a chip. She chewed it loudly. "And I'm pretty sure someone got axe-murdered in the park a couple summers ago."

The two exchanged looks across the lunch table.

"Kim," Frank began. "You can stay with me, if you'd like."

Kim glanced at Laurie from the side of her eye. "I got no problem with it, but I'm not into the whole 'free love' thing. So I'll pass."

Both of them laughed together at the same time, in the same way.

"No, silly," said Laurie, shaking her head slightly. "We know that."

Frank gave her a warm smile. "I'm asking you if you want to stay at my house as a friend. My parents would be cool with it."

"Even though I'm, y'know, a girl?" she asked skeptically.

He nodded. "My parents would love to have you over. They're great."

Kim almost got up and left. Nobody's parents would 'love' anything about her. And she never heard of anyone willingly call their parents 'great'. It was too bizarre.

But she knew she could trust Frank and Laurie. They became friends of sorts over the summer, although they were more like pal-around types who let her have her fun without judging. Still, she could count on them. For now.

"I'd invite you, but we're moving this month," said Laurie, a bit mournful. "Sorry."

"Oh, no, it's cool," Kim dismissed quickly, gesturing. She focused on Frank and grinned. "So your place, huh?"

"We can pick you up in the van after school," he offered, smiling back.

"I drove here so just give me your address and I'll come by later."

Laurie ripped a piece of paper and they watched him scrawl his address in loopy handwriting.

Kim snatched it when he finished. "Thanks. I mean it. You totally saved my life."

The shrill bell rang and interrupted Frank before he could respond. Mumbling teenagers slowly got their things together.

"God, I did not miss that sound," Kim groaned, collapsing in her seat.

Her lunch mates were already up and moving, waving goodbye. "Bye, Kim."

"Seeya," she returned, mock saluting.

Should she go to class? Might as well. Kim pushed off the table and started heading towards...Wait, what class did she have sixth period? She never picked up her stupid schedule. Laughing bitterly, Kim stumbled into the main office.

* * *

Yep, it was official. School still sucked as much as it did last year. The classes were boring, the teachers were condescending assholes, and most of the students were more braindead than her actually brain damaged brother.

_This place bites._

Forensic Science was the only class she actually paid attention in. Crime and law stuff was interesting. It felt like real stuff, not like random math equations and lame history articles about pilgrims churning butter.

She was a C+ student but sometimes she got Bs. (And sometimes she got Ds.) Once she got an A in Biology sophomore year. That was a miracle. She wasn't too bad at school, but she hated sitting still in a chair when there were things she could be doing and fun she be could be having.

Kim crushed her finished cigarette in the sink. The bathroom on the east side of the building belonged to girls like her. The faculty had long given up trying to stop them from smoking and talking to each other after (and often during) class.

"Later, Amanda," Kim said to a redhead intently focused on fixing her makeup. "Thanks for the cover up."

"Yeah," she replied distractedly, making a kissing face to the mirror.

The last bell rang for the day and Kim entered the halls filled with kids still high on summer break buzz. Hazing didn't start until later on in the week so even the freshmen losers looked happy. They were sorta endearing in some pathetic way.

She escaped outside and made her way towards her car.

The one moment Kim forgot she was searching for Lindsay, the girl finally showed up like magic.

She wasn't wearing her trademark army jacket, but it was definitely her. Lindsay was standing around talking to some guy in the far distance. Squinting, Kim recognized the back of Daniel's sleeveless black shirt. His lean, muscled forearms pushed against the brick wall to leave. But before going, Daniel lowered himself down and pressed a short kiss on her forehead. He walked off without looking back, strutting naturally with lazy confidence.

A small smile tugged the corners of the Lindsay's lips. An unmistakable look of fondness flashed across her sweet face, leaving as fast as it came.

Kim saw it. And it hurt like hell, more than any bruise she had. Those damn jabs to the heart were always worse than any real punch. But which one of them dealt the blow? The only girl who was a true friend or the only boy who...No, Daniel didn't love her—_and she didn't love him._

Kim picked up her pace and immediately confronted Lindsay. "What the _hell_?" she demanded, arms flailing.

Her brown eyes widened like a deer in headlights. "Oh, um, hey, Kim. I was just talking to Daniel—"

"Funny. Didn't look like _talking_ from where I was standing." She was radiating pure anger and Lindsay picked up on it pretty quick.

"He was just thanking me for dropping off a car part. That's all, I swear to God," she added with desperation. Kim believed her. She _had_ to believe her. "He's been having some problems lately—"

"_Daniel _has problems?" she said fiercely.

"Yeah, he does, Kim. He...he went through a lot this summer."

"Oh, yeah? Like what? He finally got herpes from some slut and has to get his infected dong removed?"

She snort laughed, but Lindsay just stared back with faint disgust.

"Well for one his dad hasn't been doing too good," she said seriously.

Kim grimaced. "Mr. Desario's never good," she replied. Her anger was simmering down into dread.

"Yeah, but he got worse," Lindsay said quietly. "Worse than ever. I mean, Daniel had to get a summer job to help his mom pay for meds."

"Daniel...has...a...job?" Her tongue found it hard to form the sentence. She wasn't sure if those words were meant to be strung together. Like, ever.

"He was working at the movie theater as a projector guy," Lindsay explained, rambling the rest of the details. "But not anymore. Right now he fixes little car things for people on the side. He charges half the price of the auto shop so kids from school have been coming to him. He's pretty good at stuff like that, when it's on his own time."

_Daniel...It's been hard for you, huh?_

She shrugged. "So the jerk's making you do his errands for him?"

"No, I'm helping him out here and there. By _choice_," she stressed with slight annoyance.

Kim squinted her eyes. "Why, though?"

"Because he's my friend."

A tense moment passed between them. Lindsay glanced around and shifted on her feet, waiting for a response to end the uncomfortable silence.

"You're my friend too, right?" Kim still sounded irritated but her throat was closing up for some reason. "_Right_, Lindsay?"

"Kim..." Her dark eyebrows furrowed from concern. "Of course. You're, like, my closest friend. My best friend."

"Then where the hell were you during lunch?" she accused, going full force. "I looked _everywhere_ for you! I had to talk to Ken, stupid _Ken_, and some geek, uh, some kid named Harris who has the same hair as you and then...well, whatever. The point is you weren't _there_."

Lindsay's mouth was hanging open, trying to make sense of it all.

"Lunch...oh, I was, um. I was with the Mathletes," she said sheepishly. "We were in a class going over some stuff. I know its lame, but they're gonna give me first block and I figured, why not? It'd make my parents happy and I'm kinda tired of making them sad all the time. Plus I sorta like winning." Lindsay took a breath. "I was going to tell you, but you weren't in English or around anywhere so I thought you skipped out today. Sorry."

"Wait, _wait_. You got first block?"

She looked bewildered. "Yeah, I mean—"

Kim threw her arms around her friend. "Holy crap! That's like a big deal, right?" She let go and lightly smacked Lindsay's upper arm. "_Awesome_."

"It's not that amazing or anything, but, yeah—"

"We should go celebrate!" Kim cut in excitedly. She took her friend's arm and walked her towards the parking lot. "Oh by the way, my parents threw me out of the house. Basically. It was totally mental, but Frank's letting me stay with him so it's cool."

"Are you sure?" she asked, uncertain.

"Pft, trust me. You're a pro at math. _I'm_ a pro at pissing off and ditching my parents," she said casually, waving away her worries. "Let's go celebrate you kicking that snobby chick's ass."

Lindsay still seemed a bit iffy about it all, but then smirked. "I'd say we're _both_ pros at pissing off and ditching our parents."

"Ooh, right on, Linds." She knocked shoulders with her. "So. Are they still giving you grief or has my plan worked? Have I soiled their perfect princess beyond hope and turned her into one of the bad kids?"

"They didn't take it well and I got into huge trouble, like I told you on the phone." She paused in thought. "But they're getting over it. Slowly. I can still get into a good college and have fun at the same time. They'll see."

"Do you regret it?" Kim asked innocently, but there was an edge in her voice.

"No." She smiled. "Not even a little."

"Lindsay Weir, you're kind of a badass, y'know?"

They laughed together. It felt good to laugh.

"If you say so."

"Hell yeah I do!" Kim stopped suddenly and gave her friend a real, long hug. "God, I missed you."

She returned the embrace with a tight squeeze. Kim gasped in pain. "I missed you too."

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the sappy stuff." Kim grabbed her friend's arm again and dragged her towards her car. "Let's get ice cream."

"Sure, that sounds good."

"The server at Sal's is _so_ hot. We're going there. You got money, right?"

"That guy with the mustache?" Lindsay said, wrinkling her nose. "Seriously?"

"What? _Ew, no._ The one that looks like John Travolta, but not so, ya know, disco-y." Kim grinned wickedly. "Unless you got a thing for mustaches..."

She laughed. "I really don't."

"So porn star guys, _that's_ your type, Linds?" she teased. "I should tell Nick so we can all watch him try to grow one out."

"Oh, shut up, Kim."

"God, I missed you."


	3. Burnt

Though she avoided it for as long as possible, Kim knew she would be dragged into this place eventually.

The room was exactly the same as it'd been last year. Behind his impeccably neat desk, the walls were covered in numerous academic awards and large stencils of trees. Or olive branches? Hm. Lindsay would know, she thought.

"Well hello, Kim Kelly!" Mr. Rosso said with his usual enthusiasm, sitting on his desk. His brown dress suit looked freshly bought and his long hair only slightly trimmed. "It's been a long time since we've seen you on this here side of town."

Kim slumped in her chair. "Hi, Mr. Rosso," she replied shortly.

"I heard You Love Playing With Fire," he told her, raising his eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you don't know?" he said dramatically, revving up for one of his bizarre lectures. "Being a member of The Runaways and all, I thought you would."

Kim stared at him, stunned. Mostly because he knew about her home life, but partly because he made a somewhat recent pop culture reference.

"That's right, I know all about you flying the coop. Do you want to know why we're talking about it?" He paused for a second. "Because I care, Kim. I care. And I don't want you to get burned."

"Who told you?" she said defensively.

"Let's just say a little birdie told me—"

"Was it Frank?" She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head in anger. "God, I'm gonna tear his head off and use it for dodgeball in gym. I swear."

"_Noo_," Mr. Rosso stretched out the word, a bit perplexed. "Frank who?"

"Frank Evans."

"Oh, _Frank_!" His face lit up and he smiled. "Great kid, that one is. Destined for big things. But no, he didn't tell me."

"Then who?" she pressed.

"I overheard you talking about it to Claudia Diaz by the vending machines," he explained. "You have a very distinct speaking voice, if I may say so myself. Loud. Passionate. Good for announcing. Or singing!" he added with approval, pointing at her.

She cut to the chase. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

"No, Kim. What are _you_ going to do about it?" He folded his hands. "That is the million dollar question."

"_Nothing._" she said hotly. "Look, I'm living at Frank's. His family is super nice so I guess I'll, like, stay there until they kick me out or something."

Mr. Rosso processed the information, pulling strange expressions, and then asked, "And what does everyone's favorite cool guy Mr. Daniel Desario think about that?"

"I don't know, " she said irritably. "We're not really talking. You'd have to ask him." Kim shrugged. "But don't ask him," she added quickly. "Don't. Please."

"Alright, here's what I think, Kim," he started with purpose. "Running away is bad news bears. I once ran away, you know. Yes, I did. From my dad. I was six years old, and my father refused to buy me a bag of Skittles at the corner store. So I ran away. We went home, and I hopped on my little tricycle and pedaled off into the sunset. When I got to the end of the street, guess who I ran into? The neighborhood bully. You know what he did? He knocked me to the pavement and gave me an atomic wedgie I can still smell to this very day. Because I urinated myself in fear."

Kim wrinkled her face.

"So I hopped back on my trikie and biked back to my house. My old man was waiting for me at the door. And you know what he did?" he paused, building suspense. "He spread out his arms, like this, and he gave me a big ol' hug."

She continued to stare at him.

"What I'm trying to say, Kim, is that running away is not a good thing. But it can be better than going back for some people, you see. If you returned home, would _your_ dad give you a hug?"

_He'd probably belt me_, she wanted to say.

"No," she said gravely. "He wouldn't."

"And _that's_ why I'm not going to tell your parents," he promised, giving her a reassuring smile. She released a held breath. "Frank is a good guy. Excellent taste in music, too. So I'm going to let this play out. But I will ask you to send him into my office here so we have a little talk. No big deal! I just want to catch up."

Kim nodded, unable to think. "Is that all?"

"Unless there's anything else you wanted to talk about," he offered kindly.

"No, I don't." She shuffled out of her chair. "But thanks, Mr. Rosso. For, y'know, not telling my parents. Oh, and the...story."

"Kim, if you ever need help I'm around the corner."

"Yeah, I know." She stopped in front of him before leaving. "Thanks."

Kim practically dashed out of the room. For a moment there she thought it was all over. It sucked being vulnerable and put into a position like that. But Mr. Rosso really saved her ass. She exited the counselor's offices feeling shaken, but oddly safer.

* * *

Sipping her Coke, Kim wandered through the cafeteria. She stopped off briefly at Frank and Laurie's table, which had become a habit of hers.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I saw a squirrel sitting in a tree last period," Laurie answered happily. "It was so cute, the cutest thing ever."

Kim laughed and gave the girl's seat a light nudge with her hip. "Hey, Frank. Mr. Rosso's looking for ya," she warned him, "so lay low."

He just chuckled his friendly laugh. "I can handle him. Don't worry about it."

She shrugged, but spared him a small parting smile. "Alright, your waste of time."

He shook his head to disagree, but Kim was already off and heading to the usual table. The gang was all there, and no clingy girlfriends were crowding up the seats. Thank God. Amy wasn't that bad, but Sara's non-stop perkiness was grating.

There was an open space near Daniel, but she took an extra chair from another table and jammed it between Lindsay and Nick. She couldn't deal with their awkwardness when they sat by each other. And sitting with Daniel would be even more awkward.

"What?" she demanded when she noticed they were all watching her, silently. She slammed down her plastic glass.

"Have a nice chat?" Ken deadpanned, looking over the tables behind her.

"What do hippies even talk about, man?" asked Nick. "Tie-dying shirts? Badgers?"

"I dunno," Daniel mumbled, stuffing another Sno Ball in his mouth. "Hippie stuff." He swallowed, then licked his finger clean." Hey, you know why hippies wave their arms around when they dance?"

"No, man, why?"

Daniel grinned. "To keep the music out of their eyes." He mimicked the action, like he was having a bad trip.

The guys broke out laughing and Kim almost did too, until she saw the smug look on Daniel's annoyingly handsome face.

Lindsay seemed confused (she obviously didn't get the joke since she knew nothing about acid) but jumped in to defend them anyways. "Hey, lay off. Laurie and Frank are nice. Unlike you jerks."

"Who cares if someone is nice if they don't use soap?" Ken quipped.

Lindsay looked ticked.

Kim rolled her eyes, and sourly said, "They use soap, doofus. Do _you_?"

"Yeah, we do," said Ken, "and you wanna know why?" He turned to Daniel.

"Because we're not hippies," Daniel replied in-sync, sharing a grin with his friend. "We don't get our kicks rolling around in mud like a buncha stoned out farm animals." He finished off his point by making a mooing sound.

"You really lived out of a Scooby Doo van, Kim?" Nick asked, laughing. "I didn't think you'd, uh, go along with that since, y'know, you're always wasting time filing your nails and, um, stuff."

"Oh, yeah, you're the one to talk," she replied, frowning and twirling her straw. "Don't you have to run off and practice your routine to Disco Duck?"

Ken and Daniel snickered. Nick took notice and reached over the table with his long arms, trying to land a few solid punches. His broad body clumsily knocked over some food, right into the girls' laps and onto the floor. He managed to get them each on the shoulder, but they retaliated quickly and soon fists were flying everywhere.

"God, watch it, Daniel! You almost hit me!" Kim shouted angrily, wanting to smack someone herself. _Guys are so stupid._

When he nearly punched her again, trying to get Nick, he grazed her bruised arm and she accidentally bit down on her tongue. Kim cursed loudly, and shoved the table's edge into Daniel and Ken's chests.

"What the fuck, Kim!" Daniel shouted back, wrapping his arms around his body. "Are you on your period or somethin'?"

"You're lucky I'm not pregnant," Ken drawled, gasping.

"I said _watch it_!" she snarled.

Nick glanced at her. "Kim, that wasn't cool. You really coulda hurt them."

"Can you all stop fighting for five minutes?" Lindsay cut in sharply. Kim knew her best friend was sick of the constant bickering as of late, so she held back from dumping the rest of her pop on the guys' heads.

When they all cooled down, Lindsay continued, saying, "Things have changed. So what?"

"Yeah, I'll say," Ken said with a glint in his eye, rubbing his chest. "First Nick decides to get involved in that boogie nights bullshit. Then Daniel became a basement dweller who fights orcs in his free time. You're a math nerd, again. And now Kim is living in a hippie tent, with actual live hippies." He looked at them incredulously. "What the hell is happening to you people? Are you all _that_ depressed with your lives?"

Protests rang out across the table, drowning each other out.

"Hey, man, I'm just really good at dancing. Everyone needs to get over it."

"We don't play in the basement. We play in the dining room. Augh, you wouldn't get it."

"Oh, c'mon, I only meet for Mathletes once in a while and sometimes we get free pizza."

"And Frank's family doesn't live in a tent, bonehead. So just shut up already."

"What, and your life is perfect, man?" Daniel challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

"Compared to your sucky ones?" Ken said, amused by the disorder he caused. "Don't look at me, you're the one who said it."

"We all have stuff to do, that's all," Lindsay said sensibly. "I mean, we're all the same, only...different."

"Really," Kim told them, "you guys are basically the same losers you were when I skipped town. Man, it was good to get outta here..." she trailed off, resting her face in her palm.

"So why come back?" said a low voice.

The intensity in Daniel's dark eyes jolted her into silence. He had been ignoring her for the most part, playing it cool and disinterested. She was starting to think he'd never directly talk to her ever again.

"Because I had to," she reasoned. Kim smoothed her hair, self-consciously. "Y'know, school and stuff. Going places and meeting people was rad, but it wasn't really my scene. I wasn't about to ditch everything to become a deadhead. And I..." She shifted in her chair, breaking eye contact. "And, yeah. It just wasn't my scene. That's all."

Her friends threw each other knowing looks.

"Aww," Ken drew out mockingly, "you missed us."

"We missed you too, Kimmie." Nick jumped in with a playful smile, nudging her arm too hard.

"Of course you missed me," Daniel said with a smirk, looking genuinely pleased. "I'm the freakin highlight of your life."

"We're glad you're back too, Kim," Lindsay added in a teasing tone.

Kim huffed and stabbed her straw into her cup. "You guys all suck."

"That's what you say," Ken said. "But we all know what lies beneath that calloused heart of yours. And it's love. Mushy ooey gooey love."

"Ugh, shut up. _Seriously._ You're all driving me insane."

"Hey, let's all hang out after school," Nick said after a while, determined to make it happen. "C'mon guys, we need to do something together and get back to before. Let's screw around the basketball court. What do you guys say?"

Ken replied first. "Amy wants me to wait for her after practice, then we'll meet you. And before anyone asks, because I know one of you assholes will, she's not bringing her tuba with her. There, I'm glad we sorted that out."

"Yeah, I gotta do something too," Daniel said, looking a bit shifty. "But I might swing by after."

Kim stole a look at Daniel. "The basketball court?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "No, thanks. I heard that's where sluts go to suck face with scum." He avoided her gaze. "I'm busy later, so don't hold your breath."

An uncomfortable moment passed before Nick broke it.

"Well then, I guess Lindsay's not coming either," he said, half-joking.

"Wait, why not?" Lindsay questioned.

"Oh, because you're not a, um," he gestured at Kim, recalling her previous comment. "Y'know."

"Um, thanks, Nick..."

The bell rang, ending lunch in one of the rare times she was glad it was over.

* * *

After-school detention was always a full house during the first month. It was mostly filled with kids who were chosen to be made into examples of by fed up teachers and power crazed staff members.

Kim's history teacher was a real hardass and actually gave her a detention for cutting. So here she was on a Friday afternoon instead of reluctantly joining her friends at the basketball court. It was wonder none of them had detention too.

She searched the crowded room for a familiar face (there were lots of them, but none she wanted to see) until she spotted a long, curly mop of hair framing a boy's zoned-out expression.

"Hey," she said quietly once she got close.

Stroker nodded back and scooted over to make room.

"Ms. Kelly, you are not here to talk," Mr. Botwinick interrupted, not bothering to look up from his rolled magazine. "The rules have not changed since the last time you sat detention. And with the number of times you've served it, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what those rules are."

A few kids snickered.

"Good to know," she said flippantly, plopping down in her broken chair. _Asshole._ Stroker rolled his eyes in solidarity.

It was hot as hell in the classroom with everyone packed together like sardines. The windows were barely cracked, but there was a small fan in the room sitting on Mr. Botwinick's desk—blowing in the direction of the middle-aged man.

Ten minutes passed by maddeningly slow. Her leg was thumping and she was daydreaming about the open skies she'd seen when they passed through Texas. It was the closest she ever imagined Heaven would look like, like it was completely untouchable.

Beside her, Stroker pulled out a piece of wrinkled notebook paper and started writing something. When he finished, he tapped her hand with his chewed-up pencil. She glanced down.

**party at my pad tomorrow night. tell Daniel to bring beer.**

Kim deciphered his chicken scratch, then replied with her own messy handwriting.

_why_

He looked at her like she grew an extra head.

**because we need beer? u baked?**  
_no. I'm not Daniel's bitch. you tell him._  
**but ur his gf...just do it dude**  
_we broke up._  
**so? get back together**  
_we split the day I left town and we're not dating again. ever._  
**really?**  
_yeah._  
**really?**

He snatched it back before she could respond.

**really?** he underlined darkly, scratching noisily.

Kim tore the paper away and wrote like she was carving in stone.

_are you stupid? WE'RE DONE SO GO TELL HIM YOURSELF DUMBAS_

"Mr. Soong and Ms. Kelly," Mr. Botwinick said sternly in a booming voice.

"Sup?" Stroker replied casually, lifting up his chin.

Kim went to tear up the piece of paper, but it was too late.

"Come to the front of the class and bring your note. And if you ruin it, you'll regret it for the rest of your high school days."

They walked up together, as if they were being sentenced to death row. The people in class laid back and watched the show, enjoying the break in monotony.

Mr. Botwinick slapped down his magazine. "Read it," he ordered, pointing to the paper.

"No," Kim protested loudly.

"Give me one good reason not to."

"It's a...umm, a love letter." Stroker grinned, clearly impressed with his own improv skills.

The whole class perked up at his remark.

Great, that was just what she needed. Something else to add to the rumors about Frank and her. She was becoming known as the biggest whore at McKinley. But it was either go with it or get busted.

"Please don't read it, Mr. Botwinick. It's embarrassing." Kim flashed a sweet smile, trying her best to look girlishly shy. It didn't suit her at all, but the idiot actually bought it.

"I won't read it," he said firmly. "but I will see both of you in detention Monday afternoon. And you won't be sitting together. _Understood_?"

Stroker looked relieved, like he couldn't believe it worked. Neither could she, to be honest. "Thanks, that's really cool of you, man."

"Go back to your seats," he commanded, unsmiling.

"Alright!" Stroker whispered from excitement, nudging her sore stomach with his elbow. Kim glared at him.

"Do you think you two can restrain yourselves until time is up, or will I have to separate you lovebirds?" the teacher threatened.

Kim shoved him toward their table. "We'll deal, Mr. Botwinick."

"We'll see, Ms. Kelly," he corrected, like it was the cleverest thing ever said.

_God, what an asshole._

Stroker gave her a silent, probing look that undeniably said, "Tell Daniel."

Kim nodded, rolling her eyes in defeat.

* * *

The basketball court was deserted by the time she passed it. So instead, she drove around until it was dark, wasting away the rest of her Friday. Sometimes it was good to be alone. She could sing as loud as she wanted to with the radio and no one ever told her to shut up. It was easier to think too, and she should probably be doing that more often.

On her way back to Frank's, she spotted a pay phone by a gas station and pulled over. Kim dug a few coins out of her pockets and made a call. Kicking the dirt, she waited impatiently for someone to pick up.

"Hello," answered a weary, feminine voice.

Kim's tongue suddenly felt swollen. "Hi."

The voice sighed on the other end. "Who is this?"

"It's me, Kim. Kim Kelly. I'm Daniel's...I know Daniel." She felt weird calling his house. It was something that she did very, _very_ rarely. "Hi, Mrs. Desario."

"Kim? Oh, _that_ Kim. You want to talk to Daniel?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes. I'm sorry about calling. I know Daniel's dad, um, your husband needs sleep, but I have to tell him something for Geometry."

She paused. "It's fine. My husband is hospitalized at the moment so you didn't bother us."

Kim's jaw went slack. She had no idea he was in the hospital. Nobody told her that. "Mrs. Desario...I'm sorry. For everything."

_Why didn't anyone tell me?_

"It's been difficult, but we're getting by," she forced out. The slight choke in the woman's voice made Kim regret the whole thing. "Hold on a second."

Kim nervously bit her nails while waiting. She hadn't done that in years. Why didn't anyone tell her? _Damn Stroker, this is all that bonehead's fault. Making Daniel's poor mom cry. And now it's on me._

"_What?_" Daniel fired. The raucous sound in her ear almost made her drop the phone. The annoyance in his tone irritated her, but she pushed it aside.

"Is your mom gonna listen on the other line?" Kim answered instantly. Her mom spied on her, though Mrs. Desario seemed too distracted.

"Nah, she wouldn't bother. 'Sides we sold the other phone." He paused for a beat. "So you just called to hear my voice or what?"

"Oh, right. Stroker's having a party tomorrow, y'know. At his."

"Yeah?" He sounded tired, but the mention of a party brightened his dark mood. "It's about time he had one, this week's been boring as all hell. Nick and I were gonna go get some stink bombs and liven up the place."

Kim laughed. "Throw one in Mr. Botwinick's room for me, willya?"

"Detention already?" She could hear him smirking through the phone. "My, my. Really changin' it up this year, Blondie."

She was grinning. "Whatever. Like you haven't spent all week there."

"Only twice," he bragged.

"That a new record or something?" she teased. Kim was enjoying the outcome of their conversation. It was like how it used to be, natural as breathing.

"Or something," he replied, and then quickly added, "You gonna go?"

"To the party? Yeah, why not?"

"I'll seeya tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see y—Oh! I almost forgot. Hello? H-hey. Stroker needs you to bring beer."

"I shoulda known," he sighed. "How much does the idiot need?"

"I dunno. Enough to get me another detention for writing notes."

"Ah, that sucks," he consoled her. "I'm always telling him not to write so freaking loud."

She swallowed her response.

"Anyways," Daniel continued, "I'll call up the guys and let 'em know."

"I already talked to Linds so she's in."

"Alright, cool."

A moment built between them until Kim spoke up. She felt a rush of feelings, old and new, over pour at once.

"Daniel..."

"I gotta go—"

"I'm sorry about your dad," she blurted. "And for your mom. And your brother. And you. I'm so sorry. If you ever want to, I don't know, talk or something...I'm here. Ok? Listen, I'm still your friend, got it? So don't shut me out."

There was silence on the other end.

"Bye, Kim," he said softly, and hung up.

She slammed the phone back in place. _Dammit..._

Would things ever get back to normal? She tried not to think about it too much on her drive back.


End file.
